


Count Your Missing Sheep

by GraveyardWhistler



Category: The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Folklore, Gen, Horror, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Krampus - Freeform, Revenge, Sequel, Underworld, old vs new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraveyardWhistler/pseuds/GraveyardWhistler
Summary: Years after the infamous nightmare, once again the spirit and joy of Christmas is threatened. But this time, it is not the Pumpkin King and his good intentions at fault. Someone else is stealing away the children of the world, and Jack Skellington, alongside the other Holiday leaders, must find a way to rescue them from the monstrous Krampus and his underworld.





	1. Krampusnacht

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical Inspiration for this chapter:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THYkGwayfew

When Krampus appeared in the small town of Haven, the town square’s clocktower had just struck midnight.

Before the first toll, there wasn’t a soul awake on the snow-covered streets. After the first toll, Krampus was there, perched on the roof of the clock tower. A ghost, a specter appearing in a blink of an eye. Krampus surveyed Haven with eyes as cold as the moon above. On the second toll, Krampus grinned without any cheer.

It was a good thing that no one was awake to witness Krampus’s arrival, as his appearance would have alarm any who saw him. His entire figure, from the great pair of twisted horns curling out from his skull to the sharp cloven hooves on his legs, invoked a goat-like devil. Thick dark fur covered most of his gnarled body. His face was pale and narrow, an old man’s face, lined with long gray hair. A long tail swished back and forth behind him. Silver shackles enclosed his wrists, with broken chains hanging down like a gallows's noose. When Krampus moved his arms, the links clinked together, sounding like a mockery of sleigh bells.

They sang out now as Krampus adjusted the basket strapped to his back. The clock rang out a third time. His smile grew, exposing long pointed teeth. He reached back into the basket, pulling out a bundle of birch branches. Krampus held it in his right hand. He straightened his spine, his eyes focusing on the largest residence in Haven, a brick mansion of obvious wealth and stature. The home of the first child on his list.

A fourth toll, a fifth toll. A long, pointed tongue lolled out of Krampus’s mouth. He licked his lips before springing off the tower, jumping impossibly high and far. Krampus landed on the roof as the sixth toll sounded. Even without the clock tower no one in the mansion would have heard him, as he landed softly upon the thick layer of snow.

Krampus was already crawling down and out of the chimney with the seventh toll of the clock. He payed no mind to the luxurious interior, his attention solely on getting to his destination. The eighth toll. Krampus went up the stairs, his goat legs carrying him up several stairs at once. Nine. Ten. He sped down the hall, silent as a snow-covered grave, slowing only when passing a certain door. Eleventh toll. He glanced at it. His grip on the bundle of branches tightened for a moment. It was the only time Krampus spared his surroundings any thought.

He reached his destination, the very last door in the hallway. Unlike the other dark brown doors, this door was painted blue, with a small green sign hanging from a nail. The sign read JIMMY’S ROOM in a child’s handwriting. Krampus smirked.

On the final toll of midnight, Krampus turned the knob and slipped into the room.

The room was messy, as many children’s bedrooms were. Toys were scattered all over on the carpet – expensive toys, Krampus noted to himself with a slight sneer. Expensive, and far too many for only one child. Clearly the parents spoiled this child rotten.

He had to step carefully. He can’t have the child wake up. Krampus put away the birch branches. He shouldn’t have to use it. The boy should be little trouble. With a couple of steps Krampus stood at the child’s bedside, looking down on the sleeping boy. The child looked like a cherub, with his wavy blonde hair, upturned nose, and peaceful expression. A classic Victorian era image of a perfect child.

Krampus knew better.

He knew the boy was named James Fitzroy – Jimmy to most people he knew – and that he was ten years old. Jimmy’s parents were the richest people in Haven and prominent members of the town council. Unfortunately, they were the type of people who used their money and influence to avoid the consequences for their poor choices, and they passed on this behavior to their son. Jimmy looked the very picture of innocence, and he knew it. Jimmy would terrorize his fellow classmates, bullying them terribly, until they retaliated. Then when the teachers investigated, Jimmy would turn on the waterworks and act like he was the one getting bullied. It almost always worked, helped by his parents looking the other way and pushing everyone else to do the same. The boy was a menace, and very little was done about it.

Which was why Krampus was here in the first place.

With a swift motion, Krampus pulled the child out of bed, covering his mouth with a clawed hand. The boy woke up immediately. His pale eyes widened in terror at the face staring at him. He screamed, but with his voice muffled, the only person that could hear him was the very monster before him. The boy squirmed and wriggled. He was surprisingly strong for his age, but he didn’t stand a chance against Krampus. He pulled the basket from his back and put it on the floor, flipping the lid open. It was pitch black inside the basket, and seemed to have no bottom. The horned creature gave the boy a toothy grin before forcing him in. The boy’s cries was immediately silenced.

It was as if the boy had disappeared completely.

Krampus paused, tilting his head towards the direction of the parents’ bedroom. Despite several thick walls between him and them, Krampus could still hearing their soft breathing. Perfect. They would be none the wiser about their son’s disappearance until morning.

By then, both Krampus and the boy will be long gone.

Krampus reached into the basket once more. He pulled out another bundle of birch branches, this one smaller and thicker than the one he had earlier. Krampus grin grew as he studied the little bundle. The _Ruten_ , they were called. One for every kid he’ll take. A little reminder to both naughty children and neglectful parents about what happens when they won’t follow the rules.

They’ll send a nice message to Nicholas as well.

He placed the bundle on top of the pillow, right where the parents would see it. Krampus closed the basket and slipped it back on his back. It felt a little heavier, and would weigh much more before the night ended. As he turned to leave, Krampus spotted something in the corner of the bedroom.

A small teddy bear, a raggedy looking thing that stood out among the newer and shinier toys. Krampus walked over and picked it up, turning it over in his claws. The bear had only one eye, a couple of patches barely holding the fluff inside its body, and the colors were faded. But unlike anything else in the room, the bear was loved. Loved by a child as family, as children do with their favorite toys. Maybe even as a protector.

Krampus knew it couldn’t be Jimmy’s. If he had to guess, the boy probably stole it from another child, then tossed the ugly thing into the corner to be forgotten. Krampus squinted at the toy for a moment, then put the teddy bear into his basket. He stepped over to the large window. The frame swung wide as it opened. The cold air whooshed into the room, a few flakes of snow following the wind and powdering the carpet. Another message for the parents.

Krampus leapt onto the window sill and looked out over Haven. The trees swayed in the wind, creaking and moaning in protest of the gusts of winter air. Christmas lights twinkled on most of the houses, and on the front lawns, snowmen stood as silent sentinels. They’ll be the only witnesses to his visit.

Krampus made sure of it.

It didn’t take Krampus long to snatch the rest of Haven’s naughty children. He knew how to sneak into their homes, creep past the slumbering parents, and grab them before they could scream. Most of them didn’t even wake up before they were thrust into the basket. The ones who did were easily silenced. Some children were particularly difficult to restrain. With those children, a few flicks of the _Ruten_ to the back of their legs did the job just fine. If they got a few bruises or cuts, well, it’s just the price they paid for being bad.

That’s how Krampus saw it. And it’s what he thought that counted now.

Soon, Krampus stood upon the clock tower once more. It has only been fifteen minutes since he arrived in Haven. The basket on his back felt much heavier, but it wasn’t any trouble for the supernatural being. Krampus turned, setting his eyes onto the western edge of town. Even from the center of town it was clear the western edge was less prosperous than the rest of Haven. He could see the run-down houses and the cracked roads. Not the kind of place where a child could be spoiled rotten.

Krampus smiled and pulled out the small teddy bear he had removed from Jimmy’s room. He spoke to the basket, his voice deep and melodious. “Don’t worry, children,” he said as he prepared to jump to his final destination.

“One more stop, and then we’ll move on to the next town.”

 

* * *

 

His last stop didn’t look like it had a consistent source of heat, let alone a chimney.

It wasn’t a problem for Krampus. Most places didn’t have chimneys nowadays, including the majority of the kids’ houses he had visited. When Nicholas went on his Christmas Eve ride, he would use magic to get in and out of the houses. Krampus wasn’t so showy about it.

The tiny house was in better condition than most of its neighbors, but that wasn’t a high bar to overcome. Most of the paint had peeled off long ago, and there was hastily-done patches on the walls. Krampus would bet that the roof had patches under the snow as well. Several windows had plastic taped to its frame instead of glass panels. The car in the gravel driveway had a good layer of rust and looked ready to break down. Krampus pitied the people who lived here.

The front door wasn’t even locked. Krampus slipped inside, avoiding the loose floor boards as he sped through the small house. Soon, he was standing outside another bedroom door, this door cracked open. Krampus ducked down as he entered, closing the door behind him. The door refused to latch shut. Krampus frowned. He left it, not wanting to waste time. He turned to assess the bedroom he found himself in.

This child was not on his list. She, and her home, could not be more different from the first child he snatched. The girl’s name was Ellie Goodwin, she was eight years old, and was one of the sweetest kids in Haven. She was always at the top of Santa’s nice list. Little Ellie deserved better than a small house that’s falling apart.

Krampus couldn’t do a thing about that, but he could return some lost property. He brought out the teddy bear. He knew that this was Ellie’s. Several drawings on the wall confirmed it, many of them accompanied by the frizzy-haired girl sleeping in the threadbare bed. Looking around at the sparse bedroom, it was clear that the teddy bear was one of the few toys Ellie had.

Krampus crept to her bedside. He placed the stuffed animal on the nightstand, adjusting it so the bear would greet Ellie when she woke up. He straightened up and looked over at the girl.

A pair of terrified green eyes stared at him.

He stiffened. Krampus and the girl stared at each other for a moment. She didn’t scream, but Krampus knew that was because she was too scared to do so. He needed to leave before she got over her fear. He smiled at Ellie, as kindly as his horrific visage would allow, and held up a finger over his mouth.

_Shhhhhh._

She didn’t say anything. Ellie only nodded, keeping her eyes on Krampus as she reached for her teddy bear. She managed to grab the teddy’s arm, and as quick as a wink, she covered her and the stuffed animal with her blanket. Krampus decided that it would be best to leave.

As Krampus left the house, he hummed to himself a Christmas carol. Before he moved on, Krampus paused and turned around. The little girl was looking out the window, her teddy bear clutched in her arms. Krampus waved at her, flashing her a smile. Ellie blinked and then, with great trepidation, waved back.

She blinked again, and Krampus was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the first fanfic I'm writing for Archive of Our Own. Super nervous, to be honest. I've read so many amazing fanfics on here, and I'm not sure if I'll measure up. It's been years since I've written a fanfic, and I've yet to finish anything. Ah well, can't accomplish anything if I don't try, right?
> 
> Anyway, this idea and fic has been sitting on my computer for months, and it was only realizing that actually publishing this first chapter on Krampus Night would be amazing did I finally get going on finishing this. I barely made it (by my time, anyway...), so I accomplished that at least.
> 
> I tried to somewhat stick to folklore descriptions of Krampus, from his goat-like appearance to the bundles of birch sticks he carries around to beat naughty children with, but I'll have to take some liberties with him, both to fit into the Nightmare Before Christmas world and because there's a lot of conflicting ideas. Particularly with if he's evil or merely mischievous. Hopefully my interpretation of Krampus is a good one.
> 
> Reviews and criticism is appreciated!


	2. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration Music:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsL6gGxEH4I

The morning light that covered the twisted buildings of Halloweentown was gray and watery. On the western horizon, rolling thunder accompanied great black clouds, slowly making their way to the gothic township. A delightful sight to behold for the macabre citizens up early for the day – more than one would expect from a holiday inclined to darkness. The monsters of Halloweentown looked forward to a good thunderstorm like most mortals would for a bright sunny day, even if they also needed strong umbrellas and coats to withstand the winds and rain. It was the perfect weather to help cultivate the atmosphere needed for the next Halloween.

At least, it would be if the Pumpkin King didn’t have his thoughts elsewhere.

The Mayor frowned at Jack, tapping his fingers on the blueprints before him. The skeleton had other papers to look over – a few lists and a timeline for the main night – but they laid loose in his bony hands. Jack gazed out the town hall’s office window at the dark skies, but the soft smile on his face told the Mayor that his thoughts wasn’t on Halloween. That kind of smile wasn’t for the scares and thrills of the holiday, or even for the storm rolling in for the day. That smile, a smile that hasn’t ever look quite right to the two-faced politician, was for another holiday. A much brighter holiday of snow, colorful lights, and good cheer.

The Mayor grimaced before forcing his head to spin around to his more cheerful visage. “Jack!” He said, scooping up the top blueprint and placing it in front of Jack. “For your arrival to the Human World, I was thinking a nice subtle fog with faint baying of hounds should do the trick. The witches are saying that we should go with a great storm, but _I_ think that’s far too melodramatic.”

“Hmm?” Jack blinked and looked around at the Mayor. He glanced down at the blueprint. It showed Jack leading the way into the Human World on a skeletal horse, springing from underground with a cackling laugh, little arrows detailing the best path to scare any humans he came across. The Mayor thought imitating the Wild Hunt of old was a bit on-the-nose already, but the humans were becoming increasingly harder to scare, and Jack had thought a bit of old-school terror would be just the thing for that year’s Halloween. Without the actual human hunting, of course.

Jack nodded in a vague manner, putting down the papers in his hands and picking up the blueprint. It was clear Jack wasn’t really looking at it. “Yes, Mayor, fog’s fine. Fog’s horrible.”

The Mayor didn’t bother keeping his face happy. Normally, he’d be delighted that Jack agreed with him, but Jack being so distracted worried the Mayor. Everything _needed_ to be in place for Halloween to work. A monster could have everything else be perfect – the creepiest face, the most terrifying shriek – but if they don’t have the right _atmosphere_ the scare would be at best only a jump scare, something the human would brush off and forget. At worst, the human wouldn’t be scared at all. They might even _laugh_ , which was the most humiliating thing a Halloweentown citizen could go through. Jack _needed_ to pay attention, _needed_ to have his mind on the plans before them, not on Christmas or anything else.

This wouldn’t be so much of a problem, the Mayor thought to himself, if those three troublemakers hadn’t delayed the planning for several weeks with their prank. Lock, Shock, and Barrel had gotten their hands on some of the leftover jack-o-lanterns the day after Halloween. Neither the Mayor nor Jack were sure exactly _h_ _ow_ the trio had done it, but the result had been several enchanted pumpkin creatures running amok through Halloweentown, causing unwanted mayhem wherever they go. They interrupted meetings and bothered the citizens in their day-to-day lives, appearing to cause trouble and disappearing before anyone can catch them. Much like the trick-or-treaters themselves.

It took Jack and a group of loyal citizens a full two weeks to find and round up the magicked pumpkins. Originally, Jack had insisted on trying to save all the creatures, as he had actually been impressed with the enchantment. He had even considered using them for the next Halloween, alarming the Mayor. But after several days of dealing with the things slipping out his clutches and harassing the townsfolk, Jack’s goodwill towards the creatures – and towards Lock, Shock, and Barrel – had decidedly ran out. Now the pumpkins that hadn’t been squashed were in a corral near the pumpkin patch. Jack had yet to decide what to do with them.

“We need to do something about those Boogie’s Boys.” The Mayor declared. “This latest stunt of theirs has set us back a _month_! They’ve been a complete menace lately, the worst they’ve been in _years_ –”

“I know Mayor, I know.” Jack had pulled himself out of his reverie at the Mayor’s words. He frowned at the politician, tapping the side of his skull in thought. “I’ve already punished them, but I need to find a better way to make them understand the consequences of their actions.”

“I don’t think they ever will.” The Mayor shook his head. “Those three haven’t tried to improve themselves at _all_.”

“Now, that’s not true Mayor!” Jack argued. “They haven’t done anything as terrible as what they’ve done under Oogie Boogie.”

“That’s not a very high standard, Jack.”

“...That’s true.” Jack leaned forward, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “Perhaps if I could find a better use for their talents...”

“Jack, we are _not_ using those pumpkin creatures for Halloween!”

“Of course not!” Jack picked up the abandoned papers and shuffled through them. He plucked out one of the lists. The skeleton made a face at its length and selected a considerably smaller one. “But if I can find something they can do, a productive outlet for their mischief, then we’d all be better off for it.”

The Mayor didn’t share Jack’s optimism. “I don’t know...you’ve tried that before, several times. They just use whatever job you give them to cause more trouble!”

Jack sighed heavily. “Don’t I know it. I _swear_ those three do it just to spite my trust.”

 _Which is why you shouldn’t trust them in the first place!_ The Mayor didn’t say that out loud, of course, but he had to say something. He fiddled with his sleeve before he spoke, carefully choosing his words. “Jack...why _do_ you keep trying to help them? They may not be as bad as they were when Oogie was around, but they haven’t changed _that_ much. It – it just seems pointless when those troublemakers aren’t even _trying_ to be better.”

A strange expression flickered across Jack’s skull. It wasn’t quite a frown, but there was contemplative sadness within it, with something else that the Mayor couldn’t quite decipher. Much like the soft smile the Mayor had spotted earlier, it wasn’t something the official often saw on the Halloween monarch. But the Mayor didn’t have time to figure out anything more, as the odd expression was gone as quickly as it came, and Jack was once again smiling. It was a strained smile, as was Jack’s cheerful tone when he spoke next, both of which demanded no further argument.

“What else can I do? I refuse to banish them. No matter what _some_ citizens would demand of us.” Jack added, giving the Mayor a sharp look.

The politician looked away, rubbing the side of his face. So Jack _had_ heard about the complaints. So far none of the dissatisfied citizens have been bold enough to tell the Pumpkin King to his face, but they had made their grievances quite clear to the Mayor. The two-faced man wondered if Jack had found out on his own, or if Sally had gotten wind of the discontent and told her husband about it. The Mayor decided the latter was more likely. _Nothing_ got past Sally.

The skeleton shrugged. “Besides, Mayor, regardless of anything else, they’re still children. Unlike that no account sack of bugs, they’ve got a chance to change. And they can’t do that out in the Hinterlands.”

The Mayor couldn’t argue with that, yet he still frowned at Jack. “Well, if they’re going to change, they better do it soon! They’re getting on everyone’s nerves.”

“Mine _very_ much included.” Jack’s face grew darker as he considered his words. “I do wonder though...what’s spurring those three on? It’s like you said, Mayor, Lock, Shock, and Barrel have been particularly bad these last few months. Why start up again now? Boredom, maybe? Seeking attention? Maybe trying to impress someone? No, at this point no one in town would ever – what is it Mayor?”

The politician had hoped Jack wouldn’t notice his grimace. But now the skeleton was staring at him, an eyebrow ridge raised questioningly. The Mayor didn’t want to say anything. He wasn’t even sure that the thought that had flashed through his head had any merit, and the Mayor knew that saying it out loud would distract Jack from Halloween planning for the rest of the day. The Mayor waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, hoping that Jack wouldn’t question him further.

“It’s nothing, just a – a silly little thought, nothing important! How about we get back to work, we’ve got so much to catch up on –”

“Mayor, please.” Jack insisted. “If there’s _anything_ that can help us with this problem, I need to hear it! We _cannot_ have another delay like that again.”

The Mayor knew he couldn’t refuse to answer Jack. If there’s one thing the Mayor learned about him after all these years, it was that he was a persistent skeleton man, especially when his curiosity was piqued. Another dismissal would just make Jack more determined to find out what the Mayor was thinking. The official knew avoiding the question would now be impossible.

“I – I saw those trick-or-treaters a couple of days before Halloween. They were in the pumpkin patch – now I know _why_ , but at the time I didn’t connect the two. B – but of course I was wary all the same, we both know how those three are. I was going to leave before they saw me, of course, but then I heard them talking to someone. Not in the cruel teasing way that they talk to victims, but in a way that sounds almost _friendly_ – for them, at least. It was strange, I’ve never heard them talk to someone like that before –”

“Mayor,” Jack said, impatience clear in the tone of his voice. “ _Who_ were they talking to?”

“It – it was Clive. They were talking to Clive.”

Jack blinked, leaning back in his seat at the Mayor’s words. “A – are you sure? _Absolutely_ sure it was Clive?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Last I checked, there weren’t many other skeleton children running around here!” The Mayor’s eyes widened, covering his mouth with his hand, shocked and ashamed at his outburst. Thankfully Jack didn’t seem angry at him for it, if the upturned corners of his mouth was anything to go by. The amused expression disappeared, replaced by a worried frown that could rival the Mayor’s on an usual day. A look of _fatherly_ concern.

“Well, do you know what they were talking about? What could Lock, Shock, and Barrel _possibly_ have to say to Clive?”

“I – I – I’m not sure! I think Clive was asking them questions. How to be better at scaring or something like that? They were so quiet and I didn’t want to get too close.”

“Oh, _no_.” Jack muttered to himself, placing his hand on his skull. He stood up and – as the Mayor had feared – began to gather up the papers on the desk. “Mayor, I am terribly, _terribly_ sorry about this, but...I think I need to go talk to Sally. I will _not_ be able to concentrate on planning until I do, and Halloween deserves better than my absentmindedness. But I promise, I’ll look over these plans as soon as possible!”

Jack smiled at the Mayor apologetically. The skeleton straightened up, all the papers fitting into the crook of his arm with plenty of room for more. Those papers had filled both of the Mayor’s arms when he brought them into the office. He didn’t know how Jack would go through all of them by himself. The Mayor wrung his hands together, frowning up at the Pumpkin King as he jumped to his feet.

“I – I _understand_ , b – but Jack, we only have three hun –”

“Three hundred thirty days before the next Halloween, _I know_.” Jack frowned as he thought for a moment. “If it helps, I meant it when I said that your fog idea was better. Maybe you and the witches could get that figured out while I take care of this problem? Put it some flourishing touches to the idea! Like...some will-o-the-wisps. To lure in humans!” Jack suggested, a smile reappearing on his face. “They’re not as wary of them as they used to be, it’ll be perfect!”

Despite the Mayor’s anxiety, the eager tone of Jack’s voice, paired with Jack encouraging his idea and adding to it, eased the elected official’s nerves. It wasn’t enough to spin his head back to his cheerful side, but the Mayor nodded in agreement. “Al – alright Jack. I’ll get right on it!”

“I trust your judgment completely!” Jack walked past the politician and opened the office door. It creaked ominously, as all doors in Halloweentown do. Jack turned around, the concerned frown back on his skull. “Anyway, Mayor, I’ll come find you no later than two o’clock no matter what. I know we need to get this planning done, but we can’t do that if those three keep interrupting everything! We barely made it to Halloween _this_ year.”

With those regretful words, the Pumpkin King stepped out of the office. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the Mayor alone in the quiet office, with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him. The Mayor didn’t care for that at all. Without Jack there to distract him, the politician noticed how humid the office air felt against his skin. He scurried to the window, flipping the lock back and pushing against the wood. Ice cold wind swept in, cooling the office to a proper chill for the season. The Mayor turned his head, spotting Jack rushing out across the town square. The skeleton gave the greetings of the townsfolk he passed by only the briefest of acknowledgment as he headed towards his home. If everything else wasn’t an obvious testament to how distressed Jack was, Jack being so rude was a sure sign of it. He _always_ gave the citizens the time of day, no matter how much it inconvenienced or annoyed himself.

The Mayor shook his head, a low whine escaping his throat. He couldn’t criticize Jack for being so worried. The politician was a daily knot of anxiety, doubts, and barely suppressed panic over much smaller problems. He would be a hypocrite and a jerk if he did. Yet the Mayor couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut, nor the way his mind started to churn over the possibility of actually _failing_ to get everything ready in time for Halloween. That thought made the Mayor shudder, and not in a good way.

It had never been easy to pull off a good Halloween, but no one in Halloweentown could deny that it had become harder to do in the past few years. Halloween was getting bigger and bigger in the Human World, yet the humans themselves were becoming less frightened by Halloweentown’s efforts, for reasons neither Jack nor Dr. Finklestein had yet to pin down. It was a strange paradox that had everyone in town bewildered.

Jack couldn’t get distracted _now_. They needed his leadership more than ever. Not for the first time, the Mayor cursed Boogie’s Boys for their mischief. It was bad enough that they kept disrupting preparations and making a mess of everything, they just _had_ to drag Jack’s kid into their nonsense. The Mayor hoped they were _just_ talking to Clive. He didn’t want to imagine how Jack would react if his son had been involved with any of the trio’s pranks.

The politician sighed, pulling the window close again and dragging his feet as he left the office. The silence of the meeting hall throbbed against the Mayor’s ears as he walked down the aisle, his thoughts swirling around in his mind in an unpleasant cocktail of anxious worry. By the time he stepped through the front doors of the town hall, the sinking feeling in his gut had become unbearable, and the Mayor sank down onto the steps.

He looked up to the darkening sky, following the rapidly moving clouds with his eyes. Storms, particularly large and ferocious thunderstorms like the one heading towards Halloweentown, were considered good, almost lucky by the townsfolk. Just watching one usually helped calmed the Mayor (unless the storm was interfering with Halloween work, of course), but today the storm felt like a herald of terrible things to come. Not an _enjoyable_ terrible like haunted graveyards or rabid rats or spiderweb-baked cookies, but an odious trepidation, like when he and the citizens watched Jack get shot down that Christmas Eve.

 _No, things couldn’t_ _be_ _any worse than that_ , the Mayor thought.

_Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a larger chapter, but considering how long it took me to write this, I decided to post this as a "Part One" instead. Hopefully the next chapter won't have nearly so large of a gap between updates.
> 
> When I began writing this story, I didn't expect that the Mayor would have much involvement with it, but my decision to write the first part of this chapter from his perspective gave me a good subplot to use. Plus, there aren't too many fics with him in a significant role, so him elbowing his way into a part of the fic ended up being a good thing. :P
> 
> I should mention that for this fanfic, I've decided to only use the original movie and the ending track that mentions Jack's children. Neither of the games, nor the comic sequel Zero's Journey is going to be really "canon" to this fanfic outside of a few aspects (like Halloweentown money being called "souls"), mostly to make things easier on me. I've debated using the games quite a bit (particularly Oogie's Revenge, as Lock, Shock, and Barrel choosing to bring back Oogie would be useful to their story arcs in this fic, and the Holiday Leaders been kidnapped too), but ultimately I decided against it.
> 
> Plus, I'll admit I never was a fan of the backstory Oogie Boogie had in The Pumpkin King. Oogie being from another holiday never felt right to me, mostly because as the Boogieman, he should be a resident of Halloween Town from the get-go, and it makes Jack's discovery of other Holidays feel a little less special. But eh, that's my dumb opinion. :P
> 
> Also, take a shot for every time Jack says "I know" in this chapter.
> 
> Edit: Okay, so Ao3 keeps adding the notes from the last chapter under the ones for this one and I don't know how to make it not do that?! If anyone knows how to fix that I would much appreciate it!


	3. Missing Premonitions

Sally stepped back from the dress, frowning to herself as she examined her handiwork. A slightly more colorful ensemble than she usually made for the townsfolk, the dress had splashes of bright emerald green among the more usual black and dark grays, mostly at the neck, waist, and ends of the sleeves. All six of them, in fact, as the client was a nice spider lady who had recently started to date a leprechaun from St. Patrick Town. Hence the green silk added to the dress, imported straight from said holiday world. It was an elegant and striking outfit, sure to catch the eye of everyone. The ragdoll should be pleased with what she had created.

Yet she couldn’t appreciate her work. Sally bit her lip, glancing out the shop windows at the gathering gloom. When she had first decided to open a seamstress shop, Jack had offered to get her a larger place for her work, but Sally had preferred the smaller and more intimate accommodation. But now she almost wished she hadn’t chosen this building, as the previously friendly shop felt borderline claustrophobic as her skin crawled with impending doom. The vague feeling of foreboding that she had woken up with had blossomed into a looming sense of dread.

Sally knew the feeling too well. The ragdoll abandoned the dress for now, crossing the floor to the shop counter. Her eyes traveled over the white-and-gray surface until they landed on a vase of withered flowers. She reached out and plucked a dead rose from the vase, hopping up onto a stool as she began to pluck the petals from the flower. Sally frowned at the rose, willing the plant to do something, _anything_ to show her what was going to happen.

But she plucked the last petal without a single thorn changing. Sally huffed, tossing the stem onto the counter and grabbing another flower – a forget-me-not this time. Sally held her breath as she pulled each petal. Her Christmas premonition used a flower. It had to work, right?

It didn’t work. Sally ripped the last petal off as she threw the stem down, clenching her jaw as she snatched another flower. A lily, the white color long since dried to a dusty yellow. Sally narrowed her eyes at the unresponsive plant as each petal drifted down onto the floor. “Come on, _come on_.” She muttered, “Show me something!”

Nothing. Sally rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, frustration crossing her face. “Why can’t you just show me what’s _wrong?!_ ”

“Sally?!”

The ragdoll whipped her head around, dropping the lily stem. Jack stood at the shop door, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eye sockets taking in his wife and the scattered petals surrounding her. His frozen shock didn’t last for more then a moment. The skeleton rushed over to Sally’s side. “Sally, what’s the matter? Did you have a premonition?” He asked, his eye sockets full of worry.

Sally shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Unfortunately?” Jack tilted his skull, a confused frown on his face. “But...isn’t that a _good_ thing?”

“Normally it would be.” The ragdoll reached up and started twisting the wedding ring on her finger. She glanced down at the orange-gold band, seeing how it glinted even in the low light of an overcast day, before looking back up into her husband’s face. “But I woke up this morning with such a terrible sense of dread, like whenever I’ve had premonitions before. But this time, I didn’t get a premonition at all! Not even a bad dream. Just this – this trepidation that’s been getting worse throughout the day!”

Sally sighed. “I don’t _want_ a premonition. I really don’t. But at least when I have premonitions, I knew what would happen. Like when I had my premonition about your Christmas, I could do something about that. I could try to prevent it or even lessen the blow. But this vague sense of _wrong_...I can’t do anything about that!” Sally clenched her fists at the last word. She felt Jack put his arms around her shoulders. Sally leaned into the touch, putting her own arms around the skeleton’s skinny frame. Jack returned the hug, rubbing the small of her back with the tips of his phalanges. Sally allowed herself a moment to enjoy her husband’s touch before continuing.

“So I tried to force a premonition to manifest itself, but it doesn’t seem to want to show me anything clear or substantial.” The ragdoll frowned at the plucked petals scattered on the silvery carpet. “It’s...peculiar, there’s no better word for it. I never had to _try_ to see what disaster was coming. Visions just show themselves to me, unexpected and unwanted. Now that I actually _want_ one, I can’t get even a glimpse. It’s frustrating!”

“That _is_ peculiar.” Jack agreed, his voice laced with uncertainty. Not directed at _her_ , Sally knew. Jack – and the rest of Halloweentown – had learned long ago to take Sally’s visions and prophetic perceptions very seriously. “Not even a hint of what holiday or person is involved?”

“Nothing!” Sally shook her head. “It’s – funny, in a way. It almost feels like I _di_ _d_ have a vision, but I can’t remember it. It’s like an imprint of a missing vase upon a dusty shelf. Something _should_ be there, but isn’t.”

Sally grimaced to herself. It’s true that she never _liked_ it when she had a vision. They were never precursors of anything good or desired of the ragdoll. But they were always needed, and since the disastrous Christmas, her premonitions had prevented many other hardships and catastrophes. The idea of Sally being unable to see the signs of another disaster was a disturbing one. She _hated_ not being able to give anything more clearer than a vague warning.

“That...that is _very_ troublesome.” Jack stepped back and took her hands in his, the skeleton’s long fingers eclipsing Sally’s smaller palms. His own wedding ring gleamed in solidarity with hers. Despite the skeleton suddenly squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw in a moment of determination, Sally could still sense the worry coursing through her husband. “But I’m certain if we go through town, we’ll be able to find out what’s going to go wrong. And I can give a warning to the other Holiday leaders to keep an eye out for trouble.”

Jack gave his wife an uneasy smile. Sally returned the smile, feeling a twinge of relief despite the ever-present trepidation lingering in the air. It didn’t last long, as a thought clicked in Sally’s mind. She frowned at Jack. “Wait – aren’t you supposed to be planning with the Mayor today?”

The skeleton flinched. Sally narrowed her eyes up at her husband, the trepidation in her leafy guts turning over with a new worry. They were behind on planning for Halloween. Sally knew how the Mayor must be fretting over the delay – many times Jack had returned home late over the last few weeks. Jack wouldn’t have been so inconsiderate to the Mayor and leave so early in the day unless it was something serious. “Jack, what happened?”

Jack glanced out the shop windows, his shoulders tensing up as the worry from the unknown problem creased his eyebrow ridges. Sally found herself biting her lip again, wishing that she could brush away the strain from Jack’s face, wishing that she could brush away the dread from her own heart. But both were impossible, no matter what Sally wished. She can only hope that whatever problem Jack had left early for didn’t have anything to do with her missing vision.

“Well, the Mayor had brought up Lock, Shock, and Barrel during our planning...and he apparently saw the trio talking to our son.”

Sally blinked as Jack launched into an explanation of what the Mayor had told him earlier. She certainly knew all about the trio’s latest prank. Sally and the children had run into the pumpkin creatures a couple of times before Jack was able to round them up, and to call them “destructive nuisances” didn’t get across just how persistently obnoxious the creatures had been. Their youngest child Mary was still mourning the loss of many of her drawings from when one of the creatures had sneaked into their manor and trashed her room. _That_ had been the final straw for both Skellington parents in regards to treating the living pumpkins with any clemency.

And now Jack was telling her their Clive might have been involved in all that? Even without her odd lack of a premonition, such an idea unsettled her. Sally felt herself mirroring her husband’s tense pose, her mind churning with troublesome possibilities, not the least of which is the rather alarming idea that her missing premonition had something to do with her son’s association with the town’s notorious trick-or-treaters. She didn’t want to think that Clive could get hurt – or end up hurting anyone else, either.

“I don’t know if Clive had anything to do with those pumpkin creatures. But if he’s talking to those three, he might be the reason Lock, Shock, and Barrel enchanted those pumpkins in the first place.” Jack’s voice brought Sally out of her thoughts. The skeleton frowned as he brushed the back of her hands with the tips of his phalanges. “I was worried when the Mayor told me about Clive, but with a possible premonition involved too...Sally, do you think that might be why you woke up with such trepidation?”

Sally wished Jack hadn’t said that. It wasn’t anything more than what she have already considered, but hearing it said out loud brought the undesirable prospect from the vague realm of thoughts to possible reality. Once again, Sally cursed her current inability to know more about her sense of dread. It was as frustrating as it was concerning. What can she do if she doesn’t know any specifics?

Barely anything, but she _can_ do something for her son. Sally shook her head. “I don’t know, but we can talk to Clive first before we come to any conclusions. And Lock, Shock, and Barrel if we can find them.”

A thought sparked in her mind, an idea that, against her current overload of worries, somehow lessened them slightly. Sally gave Jack a small smile, her thoughts turning the idea over as she talked. “Maybe...maybe this can be a _good_ thing, Jack.”

Jack blinked at Sally’s sudden change of demeanor. He tilted his skull, his frown deepening. Yet despite his questioning look, Sally knew that Jack would trust her judgment from the way his shoulders loosened from their tense position, even if just slightly. Ever since that first Christmas, he always did.

“We’ve been trying to get Lock, Shock, and Barrel to change for _years_ now.” Sally explained. “Perhaps Clive can do what we couldn’t. He’s a child like them, after all, they just might listen to him!”

“They never listened to any of the other children in Halloweentown.” Jack pointed out.

“But they weren’t ever really _friends_ with the other children either.”

“With good reason! Those three are far worse with kids their own age – I hate to imagine how they’d treat any of our children if they weren’t ours.” Jack added with a scowl. His brief anger gave way to concern. “Besides, they could easily influence Clive into bad behavior as much as he could influence them. What if he _did_ help Lock, Shock, and Barrel with enchanting the pumpkin creatures?”

“Then we’ll talk to him, and perhaps make sure they’re supervised until we can be sure it’s not dangerous for Clive or anyone else.” Sally sighed, raising her small hand to brush her husband’s face. “It’s not a perfect idea, I know. It’s not even a particularly _good_ one, and I’m not going to pretend I’m not worried, but you’ve said it yourself so many times. Nothing else has gotten through to the trick-or-treaters. Maybe our son will.”

“Hmm, I don’t know Sally...” Jack leaned into Sally’s touch. “Maybe Clive _can_ do it...but he’s not the most assertive child either.”

“He gets that from me, unfortunately.” Sally admitted, giving Jack a cheeky grin. “Assertiveness was never a strong point for either of us.”

Her husband returned her grin with a smile of his own. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that! You had no issue telling me that taking over Christmas was a bad idea. It wasn’t your fault that I was a fool and didn’t listen to you.”

“And we’ll make sure that we don’t make the same mistake with Clive.” Sally caressed Jack’s face with her thumb. “Perhaps our son is stronger than everyone gives him credit for.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s like his mother in so many other ways.” Jack reached up and tapped his wife on the nose. Sally couldn’t help but giggle at Jack’s playfulness. Wasn’t it only a few seconds ago that they had been twisted up in worry?

“But yes, you’re right as always Sally!” Jack continued, the last of his doubt fading away. “We’ll talk to Clive and plan from there. And I’ll talk to the other Holiday Leaders about your missing premonition.”

For a second Sally’s dread threatened to flood back. It’s funny how both her _and_ Jack had decided that her premonition was merely missing, as if it had taken a wrong turn somewhere on the way to her mind. But Sally looked up at Jack’s face, saw his optimistic skeletal grin, and felt herself relax despite everything. She leaned onto the tips of her toes, the better to kiss her unusually tall husband, and gently pulled his face towards hers.

The air was torn asunder with a thunderclap. Jack and Sally didn’t start – they were too used to the scares of Halloween for them to be startled by something so mundane as thunder – but the couple turned around to look out the shop windows, the moment between them lost. The street outside had darkened since Jack entered the shop, as gloomy as dusk in autumn. Beautiful weather, yet Sally could tell once the storm breaks no one but the most aquatic creatures would be able to stay outside.

“We need to find Clive before the storm breaks.” Jack muttered, voicing the thoughts in Sally’s head. He turned back to his wife. “Of course you’re coming with me, right Sally?”

Jack didn’t even need to ask. “Of course.” Sally glanced back at the shop, seeing its shadowy corners and how the spider lady’s dress almost looked like a person in the darkness. She knew her prophetic trepidation would emerge from the shadows the moment she was alone again. Sally had no intention of being alone.

Before it could creep up on her, Sally stepped up and drew Jack down for a kiss. She felt Jack’s hand brush through her hair, felt his stitch-like lips on hers, and for one single moment everything seemed right. Sally wished they could stay like this for much longer. They could wait out the storm in her shop, spend some much needed alone time together. But far too soon the kiss ended, and the taste of Jack left the ragdoll’s lips. She sighed as she looked up at her husband, the dread of a missing premonition settling back into her heart.

“Let’s go find our son Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~"Hopefully the next chapter won't have nearly so large of a gap between updates" I said. "Why is it already June?!" I said.~~  
> 
> Okay, so considering that it was me wanting to post the first chapter on December 5th that got this fic finally started, I'm going to start giving myself deadlines. Next update will be posted at the latest on **July 5th**.
> 
> Edit: Also, I've made an account on fanfiction.net and posted this fic on there:  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13316033/1/Count-Your-Missing-Sheep
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Let me tell you, the Archive has a WAY better system here, fanfiction.net gave me a headache figuring out how to upload stuff without it inserting random code into the text, good god.~~


	4. Mischief Makers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical inspiration:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnjLiguterM

Outside Sally’s shop, the cold air felt electric against Jack’s bones. The churning clouds had gotten much closer while he and Sally had been talking, like great black beasts creeping towards Halloweentown. Jack estimated that the storm would arrive in an hour, two hours at most. The skeleton felt a tingle in his rib cage as he spotted yellow-white lightning bolts among the towering mountains of air and rain. Stormy weather certainly wasn’t a rare event in Halloweentown – some of the town’s most successful Halloweens had been with a backdrop of thunderous rain clouds – but a storm of this size and ferocity was still a terrifying sight to behold. Down the street from where the Pumpkin King and Queen stood, Jack could see several citizens going about, excitement about the storm clear in their stances. There even was a group of children loudly betting each other that they’ll be able to stay outside the longest once the storm breaks.

Jack glanced at each face in this group, hoping that his younger son would be among them. Jack didn’t have any such luck, as there wasn’t any skeleton children among the kids. Then again, Jack thought to himself, Clive probably wouldn’t even consider a friendship with the trouble-making trio if he was playing with the other children of Halloweentown. That _had_ been a problem lately, but between Halloween preparations and the trio’s prank, Jack hadn’t had the chance to properly address it. The skeleton felt like kicking himself. He _should_ have made time for his son, regardless of how much he needed to do for Halloween.

Well, Jack would make time for Clive now. But first, the Pumpkin King would have to find his wayward child. Usually, when Jack and Sally were both busy with their jobs, the younger Skellington children would be watched over by the elder children. That didn’t mean that Clive would be with Ophelia or Adrian, however, nor did it mean he would be with his younger sisters Shirley or Mary either. Even discounting the possibility of Clive simply sneaking away when his siblings weren’t looking, all the Skellington children were allowed – within reason – a degree of autonomy within the borders of Halloweentown, as all Halloween children were. Neither Jack or Sally had ever worried about this, as every citizen would help the children if they were in trouble, and descend upon anyone who tried to harm them with a frightening viciousness. They simply never had reason _to_ worry.

 _Perhaps that should change_ , Jack considered. He didn’t care for the idea, as he thought encouraging his children’s independence was essential to their growth as their own persons. But if Clive was getting into trouble, it might be necessary to supervise him until further notice. Jack turned to Sally to ask her opinion – she had brought up the idea of supervision in the first place, and knew where to set boundaries for the kids a bit better than he – but the question died before being spoken as Jack saw the look on his wife’s face.

Sally’s face was also turned up towards the approaching storm, but her expression was drawn with dreadful fear. Not the kind of fear Jack loved to inspire every Halloween, not the fun kind of dread that had someone call out _who’s there?_ It was the sickening kind of fear that, while not as sadistic as the kind of terror Oogie Boogie had loved to inflict on others, had the same capacity for harm. It was the type of dread that made others fear for their lives or well-being, rather than a well-constructed atmosphere. And it was the kind of emotion Jack never wanted to see on any citizen under his protection.

 _Especially_ his dearest friend and afterlife-long partner.

“Sally?” Jack asked softly, reaching for her hand. “Sally, dearest?”

It took the ragdoll a moment to emerge from her troubled thoughts. She looked around at her husband, biting her lip. Sally grabbed his skeletal hand with a surprisingly strong grip, rubbing the top of his wedding ring with a small thumb. She glanced down at their intertwined hands before lifting her gaze to his face, fear stark on her stitched features.

“I’m sorry, Jack. It’s just...something awful _is_ coming, and I can’t tell you anything about it! What if it _is_ Clive that’s in danger? Or any of our children? Or even Lock, Shock, and Barrel? If anyone gets hurt because I couldn’t warn them in time, I – I don’t know if I could bear it!”

Jack frowned, feeling an ache in his phantom heart for his wife. Sally being afraid – truly, _terribly_ afraid – was painful enough for Jack. But adding potential guilt on top of it? Jack was no stranger to that particular emotion, but he had actually _done_ something wrong to earn it, Sally had not! He was not about to let Sally subject herself to it without cause.

Jack raised his free hand to Sally’s face, brushing a yarn-like strand of hair out of her face. “Sally, if something happens, it won’t be _your_ fault at all! You’re doing everything you can with what information you have right now. And I promise you, I’ll do everything _I_ can to stop whatever is coming.”

Jack leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Sally’s. “We are _not_ allowing anything to harm the kids. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Sally stared into Jack’s eye sockets. Slowly, hesitatingly, she gave her husband an uncertain smile. “In my mind, I know that I’m trying my best. That we’ll do everything we can. But...it’s difficult to convince my heart of that fact.”

Jack nodded. “I understand that too well. I’ll admit, if I linger too long on the possibilities, my own guilt and worry threatens to overwhelm me.”

“Me too, Jack.” Sally paused, frowning in thought. “Maybe...after we find Clive, if we don’t find out why I didn’t have a premonition...maybe we can try to find out why. It could be just a natural part of growing older, like how humans can lose their ability to see or hear, but...that doesn’t feel right.”

“I don’t think that explanation feels right either.” Jack agreed, shaking his skull. “Perhaps the witches might have an answer for it. Or Dr. Finkle –”

Jack cut off the Doctor’s name, clamping his jaw shut as he studied his wife’s expression with a sudden uncertainty. While the relationship between Sally and Dr. Finklestein had gotten steadily better over the years, it was still somewhat strained, and Jack wasn’t sure how Sally would take suggesting her creator as someone who could help. The skeleton felt rather foolish for bringing him up.

“Dr. Finklestein.” Sally finished for him. “I don’t think he’ll be able to help much. He could never sufficiently explain my premonitions no matter how hard he tried. If Helgamine and Zeldaborn can’t figure out what’s going on, I can ask, but...” She shook her head. “I doubt he’ll have the answers.”

The ragdoll smiled softly at Jack. The skeleton relaxed, his shoulders loosing from the tense position he had been unconsciously holding. “Then we’ll go to Helgamine and Zeldaborn. Might as well, I sent the Mayor to them to discuss the plans for next Halloween. And I _did_ promise him I’d come back before two.”

Sally dropped her smile. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to tell the Mayor about this?”

“Not at all, he’s _already_ fretting about the trio and the delay in planning.” Jack admitted, tapping his chin as he thought. He could just imagine the politician’s reaction to Sally’s current issue. The poor man would panic at best, and possibly give himself a heart attack at worst. Jack had no intention of putting the Mayor through such stress, especially since neither he or Sally could tell him _what’s_ going to go so wrong. “I’ll take him elsewhere while you talk to Helgamine and Zeldaborn.”

“That would probably be for the best.” Sally agreed. “Besides, you two have been delayed enough as it is. You can continue with the planning for next Halloween.” The ragdoll added, tapping Jack in the middle of his sternum.

Jack opened his mouth to point out how likely he’ll be too preoccupied to plan properly, but the faint sound of rough-hewn singing caught both of their attention. The King and Queen turned towards the source, away from the other citizens, at the other end of the street that led to the outskirts. They almost missed the sight of a walking bathtub tromping out of town, carrying three very familiar trick-or-treaters.

“You would think,” Jack said, frowning at the suspiciously convenient timing, “that those three would be staying far away from town after what they’ve done.”

“Yes, I would.” Sally narrowed her eyes after the retreating trio, as suspicious as her husband.

Jack turned to Sally. “If I know those three at all, they’re _definitely_ up to something.”

Sally nodded her agreement. “I think you better talk to them first.”

“Yes, but –”

“I’ll go look for Clive while you talk to them.” Sally interrupted before Jack could ask the obvious question. “It’ll be faster if we split up.”

Jack couldn’t argue with that. “Alright. I’ll talk to Lock, Shock, and Barrel, and perhaps find out what precisely they were doing talking to Clive. Maybe it was a one time thing after all.” Jack added hopefully.

Sally bit her lip. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“...No, I don’t at all.” Jack sighed. “I’m still – surprised, that’s all. I mean, out of all our kids, Clive seemed to be the least likely to befriend the trio, don’t you think Sally?”

“Yes...but maybe that’s why he did.” Sally said quietly. “I wonder sometimes if he feels the need to prove himself. Didn’t the Mayor say that he was asking Lock, Shock, and Barrel how to be better at scaring?”

“If Clive wants to be better at scaring, why didn’t he ask me for help?” Jack muttered. He couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at the idea of his son preferring to ask the town’s notorious troublemakers for help over him. Jack was not only the scariest monster in town, he was Clive’s _father_. Did he do something to make Clive not want to ask him? Jack couldn’t think of any reason, but the skeleton still felt another stab of guilt.

“You can ask him when we find him.” Sally suggested. “But first –” Sally glanced in the direction of the trick-or-treaters. “Let’s make sure those three aren’t going to put a prank like those magicked pumpkins again.”

“Right!” Jack turned and started towards the gates out of town. He stopped, sudden inspiration striking, spinning back around and jogging back to his wife. “After we get this whole mess cleared up, how about you, me, and the kids go out for lunch tomorrow, after the storm clears? There was a new place over on the corner of Gorey Street and Gammell Drive that I’ve been meaning to try out. Ned and Bertha told me they make the most horrible bat-and-belladonna soup in all of Halloweentown.”

Sally beamed. “That’s a wonderful idea! Er, but the trick-or-treaters?” She added, grimacing slightly as she looked around Jack. They could barely hear the trio’s singing anymore, and the bathtub had disappeared from sight.

“Oh, right, right! I’ll be back in a bit!” Jack leaned down and kissed Sally lightly on her lovely, misaligned lips. He grinned at her, before once again turning to follow Lock, Shock, and Barrel out of town.

“Love you Jack!” Sally called.

“Love you too!” The skeleton waved at her before slipping out of sight, following the retreating trio of children.

 

* * *

 

Jack caught up to the trio as they left Halloweentown, shadowing their steps unseen and unheard. Even when one of the trick-or-treaters looked back to check for potential pursuers (usually Barrel), the skeleton would slipped into a hiding place – a shadowy space between buildings, the branches of scraggy trees – and they would soon turn back around. He had more than enough practice as the Pumpkin King to avoid their notice easily. Lock, Shock, and Barrel would not see him until Jack wanted to be seen.

He had expected the trick-or-treaters to return to their tree house to wait out the storm. But instead Barrel steered the bathtub into the graveyard, increasing the speed now that they were out of town. _That’s peculiar_ , Jack thought. _What_ are _they_ _up to?_ The skeleton crept closer to the walking bathtub, darting from tombstone to tombstone, eavesdropping on the children’s conversation. Even with the increasingly loud thunderclaps, it was easy for Jack to do. The troublemakers, confident in their assumption of solitude, were putting no effort in keeping their voices down.

“How many do we need?” Barrel asked, pushing his mask off to lick the lollipop he almost always carried.

Shock punched her youngest cohort in the shoulder. “I don’t know, as many as we can pull out of the ground! We can save the extra for later. Did you grab the earmuffs, Lock?”

Lock rolled his eyes. “Of _course_ I did, I don’t want to zonk out for a week! I’m not stupid!”

“You could’ve fooled me!” Shock retorted nastily.

Lock responded to the insult as well as Jack expected him to. The devil launched himself at the witch, and within seconds the two were going at it ferociously, pummeling at every inch of the other they could reach. Their masks slipped off as they fought. Barrel stepped carefully around his fighting friends to avoid an accidental blow. He broke off a branch from a passing tree and started poking the ball of swinging fists with it, grinning ear to ear as he did so. Jack shook his head at the shameful display before him.

 _If these three were_ my _children, I wouldn’t allow this behavior_. Jack thought to himself. _How could Oogie have allowed – what an idiotic question, of_ course _that no-good waste of space would allow th_ _is kind of behavior_ _._ _He probably encouraged it!_ _Why did I_ ever _let him take_ _care of_ _Lock, Shock, and Barrel in_ _the first place?!_

There wasn’t any more time for self-recrimination, however. The bathtub seemed to be approaching their destination, slowing down to a relaxed stroll. Lock and Shock had ceased their fighting, sporting a considerable amount of new bruises as the bathtub jerked to a stop beside a small plot overflowing with leafy plants sporting small flowers. A wooden grave marker stood on the head of the plot, crooked and cracked, with the words _SHRIEKING_ _MANDRAKE_ scribbled on it in scratchy letters. Jack grimaced when he read the words.

Shrieking mandrake. A plant with humanoid-shaped roots that, when pulled from the ground, would scream like a banshee, with a similar (though more direct) deadly result of killing whatever human was unfortunate enough to hear it. They wouldn’t kill anyone in Halloweentown, but the mandrake’s shriek still affected them, making them fall into a deep sleep anywhere from a week to a couple of months. More inconvenient than deadly, but Jack could imagine what the trick-or-treaters would do if they got their hands on some of the plants.

Jack crept around until he was only a few feet in front of the trio, crouching behind a statue of a snarling jackal. From his position, Jack could peek in between the canine’s paws and see everything the mischievous children was doing without them seeing him. He’ll have to step in before they pull up any of the mandrake roots, of course. Jack had been a victim of an ill-timed mandrake harvest only once, its effects lasting only for a couple of weeks, but he had no intention of succumbing again. The embarrassment would be unbearable, the Mayor would probably die again from the Pumpkin King being out cold for so long, and no doubt Lock, Shock, and Barrel would take advantage if they found the skeleton unconscious, if admittedly only low-grade mischief like drawing rude pictures on his skull. They wouldn’t dare do worse.

Lock and Barrel hopped down from the bathtub, scurrying over to the patch of mandrakes. Lock looked at the plants with a slightly bored expression, while Barrel seemed to be examining the mandrakes more closely. He even reached out and brushed some of the leaves between his chubby fingers. Jack almost sprang out of his hiding place right then and there, but Lock apparently had the same panicked thought as the skeleton, as he quickly pulled his friend away from the plants. Barrel smacked Lock, and the two would have started another fight if Shock hadn’t shrieked at that very moment.

“ _Lock!_ ” The witch rose up from the bathtub, waving brightly colored objects in the air while wearing a grimacing expression between horror and disgust. “ _Wha – what the heck are these?!”_

Jack had to cover his mouth to stop himself from bursting out laughing. In Shock’s hands were four very fluffy, very cute, and very pink earmuffs, with tiny white and red hearts dotted all over the band and cups. He recognized them as imports from Valentine-ville, as nothing so bright and cheerful would be made in the gothic town of Halloween. He had considered getting some for Sally, but the gaudy things had clashed terribly with Sally’s red hair. Of course the three resident troublemakers would hate them.

“They were the only ones the shop had left!” Lock shouted defensively, crossing his arms.

“I am _not_ wearing these!” Shock threw the earmuffs at Lock, blazing neon pink streaks against the dark tones of the graveyard. Lock barely got his arms raised in time to shield himself from the fuzzy projectiles.

“Fine, don’t wear them! See if I care if you conk out for a month! Maybe then me and Barrel could actually have _fun_ without you!”

“As if you would be able to pull off this prank without _me!_ You two are too stupid to use these mandrakes right!”

The three began to fight among themselves. Jack didn’t care, as his suspicions had been proven undeniably correct. The trio _were_ planning another prank, and the skeleton could guess at the general idea by the use of mandrakes. He sighed irritably to himself. Did those three simply not wish to be better? How many times had Jack been over this with them?

Jack stood up, now within plain sight of the children. The trick-or-treaters didn’t see him, intent on their childish squabbling. Jack inched forward, slowly, giving them plenty of time to notice his presence. They never did. The pranksters had escalated their fighting from verbal to physical, punching and hitting and kicking each other. Even when the Pumpkin King towered over them, the friends continued to wallop each other and ignore the scowling adult above them.

 _These three, I swear_. Jack sighed again. He stepped forward, stretching his skull into a demonic expression, shrieking like the mandrakes the children were planning to harvest. The trick-or-treaters yelped at the sight of the terrifying skeleton, scrabbling away from him and leaping into the bathtub. Jack switched his expression back from scary to disapproval as the trio peeked over the lip of the tub.

“Apparently, having to pick blood aphids by hand in the pumpkin patch for three months isn’t a good enough punishment for you three. _Another_ prank, really?”

The trick-or-treaters looked at each other. “I don’t know why pranking people is such a crime anyway.” Lock muttered, folding his arms and glaring up at Jack.

“It isn’t when the prank doesn’t involve large-scale property damage and the delay of Halloween preparations.” Jack informed Lock, matching the devil glare for glare. “If your pranks were in good fun –”

“They _are_ fun!” Barrel protested.

“They’re fun for _you_ three, but not for anyone else! If they were, or if you would put your talents to good use – and yes, you three _do_ have talent – I wouldn’t be lecturing you right now! Do I need to remind you what damage those pumpkin creatures did?”

“Ugh, we’ve heard this lecture _already_.” Shock complained.

“And you’ll hear it again and again until it gets through your heads! Halloween preparation was delayed for a month, a _month!_ The Vampire Brothers are still patching up the holes your pumpkins made in their home – while avoiding being burned by the sunlight, _by the way_ – my Mary lost the majority of her drawings to one of those creatures, and I could go on and on –”

“As if you weren’t already.” Lock grumbled.

“Couldn’t Mary just make more drawings, anyway?" Barrel asked.

Jack slapped his forehead with the metacarpals of his hand. “That is _not_ the point! Can’t you three take _any_ responsibility for your actions?!”

The trio shook their heads. Jack might have been impressed with the audacity of the pranksters if he wasn’t so irritated with them. _Jack, you’re_ _supposed to talk to them about Clive, not lecturing them!_ Hard as it was, the skeleton restrained himself from continuing on with his useless lecture. Jack sighed again as he squared his shoulders.

“ _Look_ , speaking of my kids, I’ve heard that Clive had talked to you a couple of days before Halloween. May I ask what you were talking about?”

If Jack had a proper stomach, it would have dropped at the glances the trick-or-treaters gave each other. His already improbable hope that Clive had talked to the trio only once shriveled up into nothingness. “Come on, what were you talking about?”

“Nothing!” The trio said in overly friendly tones.

Jack frowned skeptically at them. “Don’t lie. I know it wasn’t _just_ nothing.”

“It was!” Shock insisted.

“He was just asking us questions about stuff!” Barrel piped in.

“He was really annoying!” Lock added.

Shock smacked Lock. “ _Shut up!_ ”

Jack ignored the flash of anger at the insult towards his son for now. “What kind of questions?”

“Oh, you know,” Shock put on a tone that was supposed to be casual, but Jack could hear the worry straining her voice underneath it. “Just stuff. Scaring tips, mostly. He asked why we live in the tree house outside of town. And why we don’t have parents. And why everyone hates us.”

“I don’t hate you –”

“ _My point is_ , just normal stuff!” Shock looked at her friends. “Right, guys?”

“Right! Just normal stuff!” Barrel nodded far too enthusiastically. “Normal stuff that definitely won’t make you mad!”

“Barrel!” Shock and Lock yelled at their youngest friend.

“You know, if you’re going to lie, you could at least be _convincing_ about it.” Jack sighed. “Let me just – get to the point. Did Clive help you with the pumpkin creatures?”

Barrel looked as if he wanted to answer him, but a quick elbow to the side made the younger boy shut his mouth. “No, he didn’t.” Lock said, looking at the skeleton with an almost defiant stare. “He just wanted to hang out with us, unlike everyone else in this stupid town.”

Jack knew the devil boy was lying about Clive’s involvement in their prank. Yet, that last sentence made the skeleton reconsider his assumptions about the whole situation. Lock’s tone, and the faces of his cohorts, were too bitter for that to be a lie. Jack had presumed that the pranksters had been manipulating his son into helping them, but now he wasn’t so sure. Why would Lock, Shock, and Barrel be so adamant on not tattling on Clive? Especially when it was clear Jack knew? Jack wasn’t completely convinced of their sincerity – maybe they still needed him for other pranks, maybe they thought they would get into more trouble if Jack knew they got his son involved – but he now considered that maybe the trio _did_ simply crave some positive attention.

 _As usual, Sally, you seem to have the right idea_. Jack crouched next to the bathtub, eye-sockets level with the trick-or-treaters. The trio took a step back, fear flickering across their pale faces. “If you _want_ to be friends with Clive – truly and sincerely – I’m not going to stop you. Even _if_ you had him help you with your prank.” They looked at each other, bewildered. “ _Not_ without supervision, mind you – at least, not until I can trust you. And if you end up hurting Clive or anyone else, I _will_ revoke my permission with due haste, and the consequences _will_ be severe.”

“Banishment?” Barrel asked, a quiver in his voice revealing his fear. Apparently the pranksters had heard some of the less forgiving opinions concerning them. Lock and Shock glanced at Barrel, clearly not wanting to be the ones to ask Jack, yet glad Barrel was the one to do it. Jack wondered what to say to them.

He had been adamantly against banishing the trio to the harsh Hinterlands. The Pumpkin King didn’t like to do it, and only did so when a monster’s crimes were unforgivable and done with no remorse. However, deliberately and continuously harming others qualified a monster for banishment immediately. If Oogie Boogie had survived the showdown against Jack after the latter’s disastrous Christmas, he would have been banished from their town for good. If the trick-or-treaters did hurt someone, acting the same way their former “caretaker” had to the pain of others, Jack would have no choice. And if they dared to harm his own bone-and-marrow, the skeleton certainly would do so without remorse.

Yet, they were still _children_. Eternal children, yes, part of the group of Halloween children that would never grow old, but time had not affected their childlike mindsets. And Jack did not want to imagine children wandering the dangerous wilderness outside their borders, no matter how mean or cruel they may be.

“If the circumstances calls for it. But I hope it won’t come to that.” Jack added, honest yet gentle.

Jack never found out how the trio would have reacted to his words. At that moment, a quiet voice called out, “Hey guys, I got the – oh – _oh no_.”

Standing a few feet away from the back of the walking bathtub, clutching a small black-and-orange bag in his hands, was Jack’s youngest son. All of Jack and Sally’s children inherited Jack’s skeletal looks, yet the eight-year-old Clive took after his mother as much as he could while still remaining a skeleton. His eye-sockets, staring wide at his father, were shaped like Sally’s, large and expressive. His mouth was like Sally’s too, small and delicate instead of wide and grinning. Clive even had a lumpy birthmark running across his forehead that looked like a stitch, dark cerulean against a blue-white skull. A remnant from his mother, Dr. Finklestein had suggested when he examined Clive as a newborn. Not that it was easily seen under the messy locks of auburn hair curling out from Clive’s head. Clive peered out from beneath his bangs, teeth clenched in a guilty grimace as he waited for the inevitable.

Jack was beginning to feel like a bellows with all the sighing he was doing. “Well,” the skeleton said as he stood up, placing his hands on his hips. “I would say I’m surprised at you three lying to me, but that would make me just as much a liar as you.”

Clive blinked, swiveling his head towards the trio. “You still didn’t tell on me?” He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Of course we didn’t!” Lock gave the little skeleton an offended glare. “We’re not _snitches_ , you big dummy!”

“Lock, if you continue to insult my son, I will personally glue those earmuffs to your ears.” Jack warned the devil child, frowning at him. The threat of having such adorable abominations glued to his head was enough for Lock to reluctantly close his mouth. The elder skeleton’s skepticism crept back into his mind. Perhaps the three troublemakers merely kept quiet out of some sort of prankster principle against being tattletales. As soon as the thought came to him, Jack tried to shake off the doubt clinging to it. No matter what the Mayor or anyone else in Halloweentown thought, assuming the worst won’t get him anywhere with these three. There had to be _some_ good in the trick-or-treaters. There just _had_ to be.

But that buried decency had yet to reveal itself, and until then, Jack would just have to handle the problem before him as both father and King. He walked over to his son and knelt in front of Clive. The younger skeleton flinched, taking a step backwards and yanking the sack up to his chin. Jack felt an ache seeing the way his child looked at him, fear and guilt and shame mixed together into a rather unpleasant expression. Jack had seen that kind of look on his kids before, whenever they had gotten in trouble, but he had never liked seeing it even under less serious circumstances.

“Clive,” Jack asked, trying to look as understanding as possible. “Can you explain yourself?”

“Oh sure, _Clive_ doesn’t get the lecture!”

“Lock, I’m warning you –” Jack growled, spinning his skull towards the devil.

This time Lock refused to be cowed. “You didn’t ask _us_ to explain ourselves. You just went straight to the lecture and punishment!” He pointed at Jack accusingly. “You’re playing favorites with your kids, Skellington! That’s not fair!”

“Yeah, where’s his punishment?!” Shock agreed with Lock, which to Jack signaled just how much the witch was irritated by the presumed unfairness. “Stop being nice to your son!”

“Make him pick blood aphids, Jack!” Barrel added. “Lots of blood aphids!”

Clive glared over his father’s shoulder at the three trick-or-treaters. “If you guys are going to be like this, I’ll take these back.” He threatened, hefting up the bag in his hand. Jack heard the _clink_ of glass objects bumping together even over the rumbling of the storm. Jack’s displeasure at Clive’s clear disobedience was tempered by his relief at his assertiveness. His son wasn’t as intimidated by the trio as the skeleton had feared.

“Ugh, your dad knows anyway, you might as well!” Shock said, throwing her hands up in the air. “The prank’s ruined!”

Jack rubbed the tips of his phalanges on his temple. “I for one shall shed no tears over its ruination. Speaking of which,” Jack held his hand out to Clive. “May I see what you were bringing to your friends?”

Clive jerked the sack closer to his chest. For a moment, Jack thought the younger Skellington would refuse to hand it over. The elder skeleton frowned at him, parental disapproval written all over his face. Clive avoided his gaze as he relinquished the bag, preferring to stare at his pointed shoes than face his father’s disappointment. Jack wanted to reassure him, but Lock’s accusation of him playing favorites stung, and Jack refused to prove the little brat right. Despite that, Jack did nod at his son, smiling slightly. He heard one of the trick-or-treaters blow a raspberry at his back, but he ignored their juvenile indignation as he peeked into the sack.

Most of the items were things Jack had expected from the pranksters’ attempt at harvesting shrieking mandrakes. Garden gloves, trowels, several glass vials in different sizes. A package of cockroach cookies, no doubt to be either laced with shrieking mandrake or eaten by the trick-or-treaters (depending on if they can restrain themselves, which Jack thought very unlikely). But one item made Jack blinked, then look up at Clive and the trio with an incredulous glance. “So who’s the bottle of Coffin Dust cologne for?”

Clive bit his lip, looking more guilty by the minute. “W-we were going to give it to the Mayor as a present after putting mandrake juice in it.” The little skeleton admitted.

For one brief moment of insanity, Jack wondered if the anxiety-ridden politician would actually benefit from such a prank. Sanity quickly returned when Jack realized how the Mayor would react after weeks of mandrake-induced sleep. "I doubt he would much appreciate it.”

The skeleton glanced at the silvery-gray bottle before closing the bag. Another boom of thunder shook the air around them. Jack looked up at the storm clouds, frowning to himself. “Now, normally, I would take all of you back to town, but since you haven’t actually pulled this prank yet, _and_ with the storm in mind, I think I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to dish out your punishments. And yes, that includes you Clive.”

 _And I need to talk to Sally again_. Finding that Clive _had_ helped with the trio’s prank, and was going to do so again, made Jack reconsider the idea of allowing the young skeleton to remain friends with Lock, Shock, and Barrel. How effective would a friendship with those three really be in changing them? And more importantly, was it worth risking his son being influenced into bad behavior by the trio? Jack wasn’t sure what was best in this situation, and that made worry weigh heavily in his rib cage.

“So, I think it’s best if for now, we just go home before the storm hits us. And I will _make_ sure you three actually go home instead of swinging back here when I’m gone.” Jack added, glaring at Barrel, who had glanced over at the shrieking mandrake patch. The youngest trick-or-treater grinned sheepishly at the skeleton.

 _It’s not even noon, and already it’s been a long day_ , Jack thought as he herded the children out of the graveyard. _And I still haven’t met back up with Sally or the Mayor._ _This_ _had_ better _be the last of today’s surprises!_

 

* * *

 

“Do you think they’re lonely in that tree house Dad?”

Now that they were alone, Jack took the chance to study his son. The younger Skellington watched the trick-or-treaters return to the rickety building clinging to the tree, his red hair tossed about by the stormy gale. He was fidgeting with his hands. It reminded Jack of how Sally would do the same when she was nervous, how she twisted her wedding ring when she told him about her missing premonition. The memory sent a shiver down his spine, one that was caused by neither chill nor scare, but by disturbing uncertainty. The elder skeleton unconsciously touched his own ring with the tips of his bony fingers, the black-and-orange bag swaying on his hand.

“I don’t know, Clive. Lock, Shock, and Barrel have each other, but...I imagine it would be very lonely out here.”

Clive didn’t speak again for awhile after the two skeletons turned their backs on the trio’s tree house and started walking back towards town. Jack sensed that his son was deliberating over his next words, his eyebrow ridges furrowed together in deep thought, his hands still fidgeting. Jack still wanted an explanation from Clive, yet the way the young skeleton kept looking back in the direction of the tree house made Jack wait for Clive to begin the conversation. When the tree house disappeared from view, Clive looked up at his father, face twisted up in concern.

“Dad, I – I’m sorry. I _did_ help with the pumpkin creatures. I –” Clive paused, looking like his confession was almost literally painful for him. “I gave them the idea, and I got the spell book and some of the ingredients to do it. I didn’t steal anything,” Clive added quickly, “I refuse to do that, that’s _mean_ –”

“And causing destruction across town isn’t?” Jack asked sharply. Too sharply, Jack realized, as Clive flinched and took a step back. The bone man immediately softened his tone, crouching down and placing the sack beside him. The skeleton put his hand on Clive’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for snapping at you Clive, but you _do_ realize how serious this is?”

“Y-yes, I do.” Clive nodded, looking down and tugging on the sleeve of his midnight-blue sweater. “I just – I just thought that since I didn’t really have any friends –” Jack flinched, another stab of guilt hitting a bullseye on his conscience “– and Lock, Shock, and Barrel didn’t have friends either, maybe I could be their friend.”

“I admire your willingness to befriend them when no one else will, but –”

“They’re not as bad as everyone makes them out to be, Dad!”

Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow ridge. “I’ve known them for _decades_ , Clive. Decades of mean-spirited pranks that are annoying nuisances at _best_ , if not destructive pandemonium at worst! And considering I just caught them – _and you_ – trying to gather mandrakes for a prank a month after the last one, I’m not convinced.”

Clive glowered at his father, a surprisingly angry expression that startled Jack with its intensity. “I bet you haven’t really _talked_ to them like I have.”

 _He’s a child like them, after all, they just might listen to him!_ “Well...I guess I do go straight into a lecture whenever they get caught. But don’t you _dare_ tell Lock I said he was right, he’ll hold it over me for the rest of my afterlife.”

Clive blinked. “You’re going to let me see them again?”

Jack hesitated. With every bit of new information he gained, his uncertainty about the idea of Clive being friends with the town’s notorious trick-or-treaters had grown. He didn’t know what would be right for Clive or even for Lock, Shock, and Barrel. Yet Sally had been right about the years of futile attempts at getting the three to change. They had to try _something_ different.

“Yes, but under strict supervision. I trust you at least had good intentions, but I want to make sure Lock, Shock, and Barrel aren’t just manipulating you for their own uses.”

Clive opened his mouth as if to argue with Jack, but then seemingly decided against it. “If – if it’ll prove to you that they’re not as bad as they seem, then that’s okay.”

Jack smiled at his son. “I hope that they do.”

“Really?”

“Really! I would _love_ to be proven wrong!” Jack stood up, picking up the sack with one hand and wiping off his trousers with the other. “And I’ll admit that my lectures haven’t done any good at all in this situation.”

“No offense Dad, but that’s kind of obvious.”

Jack blinked at the young skeleton, then he burst out laughing, startling Clive. “I’m so sorry, but your mother would tell you that I have a tendency to be utterly oblivious to the obvious.”

“Is that why Mom tells us to be direct when telling you stuff?” Clive asked.

“That’s right! Otherwise everything will go right over your dad’s skull!” Jack ruffled Clive’s hair playfully.

“ _Dad!_ Stop it!” Clive swatted Jack’s hand away, but the small smile gave away his enjoyment of his father’s teasing.

Jack grinned at his son. “You protest, but you’d miss it if I didn’t tease you once in awhile.”

The old skeleton turned towards Halloweentown, the grin slipping off his face. “Speaking of your mom, she went looking for you while I talked to Lock, Shock, and Barrel.”

Clive dropped his own smile. “Is she mad at me?”

Jack shook his head. “Of course not, she’s just concerned. In fact, she was the one who suggested that you being friends with Lock, Shock, and Barrel could be a good thing.”

“Is that why you’re giving them a chance?”

“Yes, her advice was a big part of it. The majority of it, I would say,” Jack crouched in front of Clive once again. “But you should understand Clive, despite my skepticism, I don’t think they’re truly irredeemable. As much as they can frustrate me, Lock, Shock, and Barrel...they’re just kids, like you. I think they just need the right push in the proper direction.”

Clive nodded. “And – and that’s where I can help, right?”

“Absolutely! From what you told me, they talk to you far more openly than they ever have with me.”

“ _Yeah_...they think you’re a stuffy old party pooper that likes to ruin their fun.” Clive admitted, immediately averting his eye-sockets from Jack’s, clearly expecting his father to be angry.

Instead, Jack chuckled at the insult. “Well, when you join them picking blood aphids, _you_ can tell them that if their pranks weren’t so destructive and more in _good_ fun, I wouldn’t have to ruin anything. Remind them that other children of Halloween – _including_ your siblings – have pulled pranks before without me having to punish them for it.”

Clive made a face. “Do I _have_ to pick blood aphids Dad? They’re so... _bitey_.”

Jack put on a tone of mock parental disapproval. “ _Clive_ , you know that if I give Lock, Shock, and Barrel a certain punishment for their prank, then it’s only fair that you have the same punishment for the same prank. Besides, that’s what gargoyle gloves are for.” Jack ruffled Clive’s curls again.

“ _Dad_ , you’re gonna tangle my hair!” Clive tried to smooth out said tangles, without much success. “And...I guess that’s fair.”

“That’s my little skeleton! Now,” Jack said as he stood up, “we should go find your mother before she ends up walking the entirety of Halloweentown looking for you.”

“Or get caught in the rain.” Clive looked up at the looming thunderclouds. “We should go home and get Zero to find Mom. It’ll be faster.”

“I was wondering where he went off to.” Jack looked towards the graveyard. Before Jack could say anything else, a high-pitched barking echoed against the hills, turning the attention of father and son back towards town. Jack grinned at the sight of the spectral canine flying towards the skeletons.

“Zero! Here boy, we need you to find Sally! Zero?”

Jack frowned as the ghost dog ignored his command. Instead Zero barked at them constantly, drifting back and forth between Jack and Clive, wanting the two skeletons to follow him. The way Zero whined and whimpered, his glowing nose flickering uncertainly, set Jack’s nerves on edge with sudden apprehension. Clive gasped, spiking the apprehension Jack was feeling.

“Sandy Claws is in town?” The young skeleton exclaimed, whipping his head up at Jack.

“What – Clive, it’s less than twenty days before Christmas, Sandy would be too busy to – _Clive_!”

The youngster took off running, chasing after Zero as they followed the dirt path back to Halloweentown. Jack had no choice but to run after them, dropping the bag unconsciously. Despite his long legs, Jack barely kept up with the duo, Clive racing ahead of his father with the vitality of youth. Jack didn’t give any thought to his son’s speed, as Clive’s words kept him occupied.

 _Sandy Claws can’t be here, it’s far too close to Christmas! He wo_ _uldn't have time for a casual visit, why would he be here?!_

Unless Santa wasn’t in Halloweentown for a casual visit. If he _was_ here so close to Christmastime, it couldn’t be for a good reason. Jack recalled Sally’s missing premonition, and the trepidation his wife had felt, and the skeleton felt that same trepidation as the gates to town rose before them. It grew as he saw the crowd gathering in the town square, confusion on the voices of every monster. Jack reached forward and grabbed Clive before he could charge into the crowd.

“We need to find your mother.” Jack muttered, craning his neck and hoping that none of the citizens see him before he could locate Sally. He spotted the ragdoll immediately, standing next to the dragon fountain, speaking to a certain holiday leader dressed in red. Jack felt his trepidation spike into pure un-Halloween-like dread at the sight of Santa Claus, which was quite unusual for the skeleton.

“Jack!”

As soon as the voice cried out his name, the citizens of Halloween swarmed around the Pumpkin King. Jack drew Clive close to his side, hand covering the boy’s shoulder as the monsters started peppering Jack with questions. Even discounting the years of correcting their initial misconceptions since the Christmas fiasco, all the citizens knew, from the madness their own holiday preparations became when October arrived, that for the head of a holiday to leave their holiday world at such a close date to said holiday was a very serious situation. And they wanted answers Jack couldn’t yet give them.

Jack waved his hand in an attempt to stem the tide of inquiries. “Everyone, please! Let us through!”

The crowd slowly parted, allowing Jack and Clive to reach Sally and Santa. Zero flew over to Sally’s side, nuzzling her hand with his nose. The ragdoll straightened up, biting her lip in worry as her eyes flickered from Jack to Santa and back. Now that Jack wasn’t surrounded, he could see the Mayor standing on Santa’s other side, his face anxious and grimacing. An expression that, to Jack’s dismay, was reflected on the jolly old elf himself. No, Jack realized, Santa’s expression was _worse_ than anxiety. The Leader of Christmas was distressed, and disturbed by _something_.

Jack rushed over to the fountain, Clive close on his heels. “Sandy Claws, I didn’t expect you to visit so close to Christmas!”

“Normally I wouldn’t, Jack, but I’m afraid this is a matter of grave importance.” A boom of thunder accompanied Santa’s ominous words. He sounded tired as he said them, stressed, and Jack could hear a twinge of fear underlying them. The Pumpkin King felt sympathy for his fellow holiday leader.

“I’m truly sorry to hear that. Let’s head up to my home, and you can explain everything.” Jack turned to the crowd of Halloweentown citizens, who were all listening with a worried ear. “I understand you’re all concerned, but until I know what’s going on, please continue as normally as you can! I will let you know something as soon as I’m able!”

The crowd disperse reluctantly. How quickly had the mood of the town change from excitement to worry! Jack waited until there was no one close enough to overhear him before turning back to Santa, though he noticed groups of citizens still watching him nervously and – was that _disapproval?_ Jack looked again, but the small group he had noticed – consisting of two of the Vampire Brothers, a hag, a gorgon, and a zombie – wasn’t looking at him anymore, but engaged in their own conversation. But the skeleton could have sworn the expressions on their faces hadn’t been the frowns of concern nor worry. Jack squinted at the grouping. _That was peculiar…_

Too many peculiar things in one day, and so far all had been neither good nor wanted. Jack decided that he would deal with whatever that was later (if it wasn’t _just_ in his imagination). He shook his skull before returning his attention back to his visitor.

"Anyway...if you please, Mr. Claws, I think we’re _all_ wondering what’s going on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Well, my plan to have self-imposed deadlines is off to a fantastic start.~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~And yet even with that, I still managed to post the longest chapter so far with the shortest time between updates.~~
> 
> And thus we _finally_ get to meet one of the Skellington children, _and_ get back to the plot. Not gonna lie, I had debated rather or not to include Skellington kids into this story. But after writing this chapter, I'm very glad I decided to do so, as I quite liked writing Dad!Jack. And we'll be meeting the rest of Jack and Sally's kids in the next chapter.
> 
> \--Both "Valentine-ville" and the inspiration for the pumpkin creatures come from an early version of the TNBC script.
> 
> \--Gorey Street and Gammell Drive are named after Edward Gorey and Stephen Gammell.
> 
> Now, next update will be posted at the latest on **August 10th**. ~~Let's see if I'll be able to meet this deadline this time...~~
> 
> And in case you didn't see it, I've upload this fic to fanfiction.net as well!  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13316033/1/Count-Your-Missing-Sheep


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